Smith looked at her. The print of his hand was plainly marked upon her face. He felt ashamed.
"Yes, you can go aboard," he said; and then, as if in apology for what he had done, he explained: "You must keep quiet in that boat, you know. You must not try to walk about, for it endangers the whole crowd. You understand, don't you?"
"Yes, I'll try and keep still, but my feet get so cold and I grow so stiff."
"Well, you must forgive me for having used you roughly. I had to do it. There was no time for politeness in that panic." He came close to her. His eyes held a light she feared greatly, and she shrank back.
"I hope it is not a time now for politeness," she said, with meaning.
"Oh, I wouldn't hurt you," said Smith.
"I hope not," said the girl.
Miss Billings asked if she could go aboard also. Smith allowed her, and called the boat in.
The two girls climbed into the boat, and the older women commented spiritedly upon the favors of youth. Smith shut them up with an oath. The woman with the three children huddled them back aboard as the ice caused them to shiver with the cold on their little feet. They had neglected to put on their shoes. The women, for the most part, were only half dressed, and few, if any, had on shoes. They had rushed on deck at the first alarm, and the time allowed for dressing was short. The ship had gone down within fifteen minutes from the first impact with the berg.
Smith walked to and fro upon the ice for some time. The sun shone for a few moments, but was quickly hidden again in the haze.